Tortured Souls
by Lucy375
Summary: This story is based on the TV Show Being Human. It fochuses on Annie as she struggles to cope with being a ghost.


Annie sat in the cold graveyard, crouched down by her very own black gravestone. Her name was engraved into the shiny black marble, in long golden letters. As her brown almond shaped eyes focused upon the message attached to a wilting bunch of blue violets, she felt a sick feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, A feeling which ghosts hardly ever have. Scrawled onto the card in spidery blue letters, it said:

"Dear Annie,

We all miss you so much,

And we are all thinking of you.

Owen.

Annie let out a small gasp, and if her heart could beat, it would be drumming hard against her chest. She clutched hold of the card, and icy tears started to spill down her cheeks. As she turned her gaze away from the card, she looked at the bright blue violets, which seemed to be laughing at her.

"Blue violets are the symbol of truthfulness." whispered Annie, picking up the flowers. Black clouds started to roll across the sky and rain poured down onto Annie, but it couldn't disguise her ghostly glistening tears. The laughter grew cold and cruel, harsh against her ears until she could bear it no longer.

"WHEN WERE YOU EVER TRUTHFUL!" she screamed in anguish, hurling the violets through the air. They scattered over the grass; each one like a little piece of Owen, full of lies, deceit and hatred. She tore violently at the card with her sharp fingernails and let go of the shreds, as her heart slowly tore apart. The wind snatched them away from Annie, just how Owen had grabbed hold of her life with both hands and snatched it away from her.

Annie dropped to her knees, and slumped onto the wet, muddy ground. Curling up into a ball she lay there, all alone and invisible to the rest of the world. The twinkle had disappeared from her eyes and instead they were frightened and lonely.

"Mitchell, George…" she sobbed, as if expecting them to appear like her two fairy god brothers. The sad thing is that Annie knew, life is no fairytale.

Mitchell and George sat lazily on the fabric sofa back at number 1, Windsor Terrace, the TV screen blaring in front of them. Mitchell glanced at the clock and nudged George.

"Where's Annie?" he said, his gentle brown eyes breaking away from the screen. George didn't reply. He was too fixated on Dracula.

"George." said Mitchell, giving him another nudge.

"Mitchell, it's the bit with you in it," George said, dipping his hand into the tub of chicken wings. Dracula appeared on the screen and let out an evil laugh.

"George, I am not Dracula, I'm Mitchell, and you need to come back down to earth and tell me where Annie is!" cried Mitchell, exasperated. He reached out his hands and chucked the tub of chicken wings into the corner of the room.

"Sorry Annie's dad, but I don't know where she is!" replied George, his eyes still glued to the screen. Mitchell stood up, walked over to the TV and pulled the plug. Dracula disappeared from the screen and George's shocked reflection stared back at him.

"You've forgotten what today is, haven't you." said Mitchell, lowering his voice to a strict, teacher like tone. George stared blankly at him, and Mitchell waited for the alarm bells to ring in his head. As soon as George remembered, he clasped his hand to his mouth.

"The anniversary of Annie's death." he whispered softly, like it was too terrible for words. Mitchell nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the floor. There was a moments silence, then Mitchell stepped out of the living room and dragged his black leather coat off the rack.

George wiped the barbecue sauce off his chin, adjusted his glasses and followed Mitchell out of the front door.

"Where are we going?" he said, as they left Windsor Terrace. George hurried to keep up with Mitchell.

"Were going to find Annie." said Mitchell, brushing back his thick shiny black curls with a flick of his hand. As George followed Mitchell like an obedient puppy, he realized that it was a full moon that night, so he would have to journey deep into the woods for his transformation. He didn't mention it to Mitchell, as today was all about Annie, and he would just have to worry about that later.

They continued walking briskly, and it started to grow dark. The air was misty and the temperature had dropped below freezing. They turned the corner and entered the cemetery. Mitchell and George worked their way through a maze of grave stones, carefully dodging each perfectly presented bouquet of flowers. That's when Annie's cries sliced clean through the air like a sharpened knife.

"Did you hear that?" asked George, then they both looked straight ahead. Annie was walking slowly towards them.

"Annie, are you okay?" said Mitchell gently, holding out his hand towards her. She continued straight on past the two of them, as though she was blind to Mitchell's outstretched arm. Her eyes looked strange and glazed over, like she was trapped in a deep trance, and she was staring straight behind Mitchell and George.

"What are you looking at, Annie…" said Mitchell, spinning around quickly.

He came face to face with a large metal door, standing in the middle of the cemetery. There were no walls surrounding it, and a soft glow was visible in the gap at the bottom of the door. It creaked slightly open and a burst of white light flooded out from every square inch. It sounded as though a large crowd of people were singing softly behind the door, getting gradually louder as Annie grew nearer. They were beckoning her to come and stay with them, forever.

"Mitchell do something!!" cried George, desperately trying to force the heavy iron door shut. It was no use, the door wasn't going to move for anyone. George banged furiously against it, praying that it would slam shut, but it just wouldn't budge.

Mitchell grabbed hold of Annie, pulling her away from the door. She kept trying to walk but he was too strong for her.

"Annie, this isn't you. You don't have to leave, you know you don't!" cried Mitchell, forcing her to look at him. She stared blankly into his eyes, unable to hear a single word he was saying. Suddenly, George was pushed hard onto the ground and the door started to move towards Annie and Mitchell.

"She can't come to the door, so the door's coming to her…" whispered George, wiping the blood from his lip as he dragged himself up off the grass. As the door grew dangerously closer, George felt an agonizing pain shoot up through his body. He leaned against Annie's gravestone, clutching it for support. It felt like someone was punching him repeatedly in the ribs. He collapsed onto the ground and felt sweat trickle down his forehead. As he lay on the floor staring up into the pitch black sky, he caught a glimpse of the moon.

The full moon.

"George, what is it? What's wrong!" yelled Mitchell, his arms wrapped round Annie's shoulders, pulling her back with all of his strength.

"I…think…I'm…transforming!!" he gasped, gritting his teeth as they slowly changed into long sharp fangs. His shirt started to stretch as thick brown hair sprouted from his back, and soon it was ripped to shreds. George begged it to stop, although he knew this wasn't possible. His bones and muscles tore through the flesh under the silvery moonlight and his eyes turned wild and ferocious.

Annie continued fighting her way towards the door, ignoring Mitchell's protests.

"Annie it's not your door. Were your friends, you belong with us!" pleaded Mitchell, clinging onto her arm as she struggled desperately to get away from him. The door was about a metre away by now, and suddenly, Annie leapt free from Mitchell's strong grip and lunged towards the light…


End file.
